Kenna thought she heard music.

Not the same one that she had heard before, no, it wasn't Tchaikovsky. She could scarcely make out the cheery tune, jumping sonically in her ears and somehow, she felt like she recognized the song— no, wait she indeed knew, as though if she had heard it in a film or somewhere. The name was at the tip of her tongue, but at this point, it felt tenuous to think of particularly anything. Her mind might have already awoken, but it didn't mean it had functioned properly.

Midnight with the stars and you
Midnight and a rendezvous
Your eyes held a message tender
Saying "I surrender all my love to you"

Then entered another voice aside from the singer's; rich, deep and masculine, humming to the music that was playing. Kenna opined that he had a disarmingly wonderful voice, like dulcet tones in her ears, if not, very distinctive, the kind that presumably belonged to him only for she had never heard a voice like his.

He sounded near, like only a heartbeat away. But then a subtle awareness rouse within her.

Who was he?

Why was he here?

And where in the seven hells was here?

Those questions whisked her mind enough for her to snap, her consciousness clawing its way out to the surface. Something was amiss.

Slowly and reluctantly, Kenna lifted her heavy lids open. She found no pleasure in the act, however, especially when she felt the first of the blinding light peaked right through her retinas like some whimsical distortion. She blinked twice and squinted when her mind spun out of control like an overspeeding carousel, she could only groan in hoping it would alleviate. The pain was acute and brutal. There was a fleeting moment where Kenna thought her head was going to smash to smithereens before it finally slowed down and stopped.

Gradually, her vision starting to regain its functionality for the first time in a while. Kenna was first aware of gazing at her own boots, albeit veiled by her disheveled raven locks, and the lingering smell of dust in the air. It also came to notice that her ass was plastering to a hard surface, which her mind immediately picked up that she was sitting in a chair, although, if she had any recollection on how on earth she could be sitting in here , Kenna couldn't seem to find one. Everything was still such in a daze, it was just frustrating.

She then took a conscientious look at her surroundings, despite her still droopy eyes begged for her to reconsider. A room, fairly two times larger than her whole apartment combined was the situation that bestowed upon her at this moment.

The place was mostly taken up by the monochrome photographs that hung on the wall, which Kenna couldn't quite seem discern what they were, the massive archaic painting of what she deduced as a scene in Tristan and Isolde and some antique furnitures. They all appeared to be still functioning properly despite bathed in dust. There was an enormous red drapery that was shrouding some parts of the room, covering the Paisley wallpaper that slid from the walls as if trying to hide its flaws though, from an artistic point of view, the predominant color made such an interesting contrast to the black and white flooring.

Not far from she sat, various of photography equipments sprawled before her; a tripod mounting a DSLR camera, diffusers, umbrella lights which as far as her eyes could perceive were the only reliable source of light in the room, there was also a makeshift table where the light meter and lenses set in place and many other equipments that she was unfamiliar with. The phonograph sat next to them, the song coming to an end. Behind them, stood the massive wooden doors that were left ajar.

The gears in Kenna's head were turning then. What exactly was this place? How did I even get here? Her mind mused. Then it clicked; the fall. And Kenna could feel every fiber of her being cursed inwardly, this was seriously some fucked up situation indeed.

Not just the fall completely fucked up her plans, but it had really taken a tumble off her strength and now she felt like shit. Kenna wagered it would probably take some time for her to recover, and here wasn't the ideal place for the task— wherever the fuck here was.

It was at this particular moment when Kenna realized the framed photos on the walls, and the contents took the exasperation within her to a whole another level. They were unknown and candid pictures of her, all of them, there was one back when she was in the city hall courtyard, talking to her communicator; then there was a rather up-close picture of her fighting off a small horde of the undead and so on. What really irked Kenna was most of them looked as if someone had taken the shot from a very conspicuous angle, but judging from the distance she should have seen the person behind the camera.

Did someone had really been stealthily tailing her this whole time? Could this be the reason why she'd felt like she was being watched then? Questionnaires upon questionnaires flew right through her brains. Although Kenna couldn't seem to pinpoint their ulterior motives, she reckoned it had something to do with her affiliation with MOBIUS.

Fucking MOBIUS. Of course, everything had to have to do with them.

"So, it seems someone has finally woken up from falling down the rabbit-hole."

Kenna almost leaped out of her skin upon hearing a male voice from her back. She tried to rise to her feet only to find something restricting her movement. A dread took over her face when Kenna realized that both of her hands had been tied behind the chair and that her jacket, gloves and all her personal possessions had all been deprived of her. Leaving her only in her white t-shirt.

Appeared before her was a stranger; a man like a spectral coming out of the shadows without a warning, whose presence reverberated throughout the very stillness of this room.

There was a very rich essence of resplendency from his appearance, and his outfit spoke volumes. He was sporting this sumptuous indigo suit, sharp-looking and well-fitted to his lean and tall figure. He wore a red scarf where its ends were tucked neatly underneath his suit jacket with a pair of gloves with the same darker shade. His leather loafer shoes probably cost him more than her monthly rent, though Kenna couldn't blame him. Those shoes looked classy as hell. His well-clad appearance really was a stark contrast to her rock and roll vibe. She had to give him that— whoever this person might be.

He appeared to be in his thirties if one was not mistaken, but the way he wore his dark hair swept down, covering his right eye made him look uncanny and how his mouth quirked up into a Cheshire Cat-like grin was enough to send chills down her spine. In any other occasion, one might wear that smile as a form of a jest, but here, the only person who would smile like that must be none other than the devil.

"I must admit, I did not expect that MOBIUS would send another one of their unfortunate pawns into this utopia this soon. Especially after the mishap that happened to your predecessor. Clearly, I've misjudged them. And clearly, I've misjudged you," the man with the Italian accent remarked. When he walked, the dim and shadowed lights overhead following his every step like vultures; melodies rebound while the clicking of his shoes her filled the void in between.

"G-get away from me!" Kenna bellowed, albeit recoiled in terror.

The man clicked his tongue, his electric blue eye staring condescendingly like a scorn. "Well, you are an uncouth one, aren't you? But I don't mind a little challenge. I'd expect you to be one, frankly."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

Still holding the same devilish smile, the man simply turned the other way. He hadn't even made the third step when Kenna called for him from his back.

"Hey!" her voice rasping like a sandpaper. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"One question at a time, my dear. I'm not the type to accomplish two things at once," he replied, his hand waving mid-air like some sort of dismissal.

"Just answer the damned questions!" she yapped, she could care less if she was the one mired in distress. In fact, her tone was simply a mere defense mechanism from appearing tenuous.

He sighed loudly and jerked his head in her direction. "It appears an introductory is in order, then. Though I have the feeling that we have made each other's presence known," he then proceeded to fully face her again and bowed dramatically. The strands of his shiny dark locks covering the entirety of his forehead. "First of all, my name is Stefano Valentini, piacere di conoscerla. And let me be the first to welcome you to Wonderland."

Kenna's stomach churned. The reference was resonating in her head and everything simply fell into place. Her gaze then found the Polaroid camera in his hand and her thoughts went scattering like millions of galaxies dust. It was like her mind just failed working right there at the revelation.

So it was him. The creep who had been taking unknown and candid pictures of her stood before her, barely showing any guilt or remorse—in fact, it appeared like he took pleasure from her dismay. She was deeply frightened by this obviously, there was a chance that this Stefano guy was certified insane but fury and agitation had begun to collide in the major parts of her brain. He'd been taunting her this whole time and now he dared to tie her up and show his face? Asshole.

"You…" Kenna was nothing but snarling. She was clearly livid by this encounter that her eyes were nothing but shooting daggers. If there was fire in her eyes, she wanted Stefano to know.

"Sì, I. I sincerely hope the fall didn't break a bone in your body."

"You son of a bitch!" she spat, the words tasted like venom on her tongue. Her whole body shook in resentment. "You— let me fucking go. NOW!"

"And then what, hmm? Give you and MOBIUS the opportunity to invade this haven for your own means?" Stefano gave her a bitter look. "Penso di no."

"For fuck's sake, I don't even work those greedy bastards anymore!"

"What difference does it make? You came here for the Core, under their orders," he said. "My dear, you are a MOBIUS just like those at the other end of the line."

How does he know about the Core? Shit, could he be the one who took Sebastian as well?

Kenna growled. "Listen here, you inane douche, you either let me go right now or I swear in the name that is holly I will smash every tooth in your head!"

He chuckled, lowly and dangerously it made Kenna almost wished she hadn't been so brash to him. Almost.

"I dare you to try," Stefano's voice dropped an octave as he stepped closer, just an arm's length away. The proximity was too close to her comfort knowing the circumstance she was in. "What is it that they say? It's no use banging your head against the wall? Well, you get the idea. Especially when I have the upper hand. It's time to face the music and succumb."

"Well, I'm not a risk-averse. So, bring it on." The moment the words left her lips, the sooner she regretted uttering them out.

A faint hum escaped from his thin lips. Was it mockery in his eyes? She couldn't tell, but it made her felt groggy. "As the signorina wishes, then."

With measured gait, he then backed away from her and proceeded to the makeshift table. Stefano once again humming to the music that was playing as his gloved hands picked up what it appeared to be a bloodied dagger. And her blood went cold. He had taken pictures of her, she wouldn't want to know what kind of more twisted thing this man was capable of. As much as she wanted to hit him as the next person, she needed to be cautious.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kenna cursed inwardly. She did not sign up for being brutally dismembered by a fucking psychopath like this, fuck no. She swore if she ever got out of here, she would berate the living hell out of Juli or if did she die here, those people at MOBIUS would get seriously haunted. Particularly the Administrator.

A small heads up of what Kenna would be facing could save her a lifetime from this ruckus, but no, MOBIUS would always be MOBIUS with their corporate pride bullshit and confidential affairs. They had come to her door and pleaded for her assistance; she was their last and only hope and they had the nerve to throw her right up a blind alley. These people expected results but how in the hell could she even save Union if they wouldn't let the skeletons out of their closets?

The music made an abrupt static then, the male singer's wondrous voice sounding as if melted and turned demonic it changed the song's cheery tune into something completely horrific. Then the song stopped. Stefano was left sighing as she watched him picked up the record out and blown on the flat surface, the dagger neglected. Kenna quickly seized the opportunity by flexing her hands, though the effort was unfruitful.

Shit. It seemed it'd just be him and her for a while.

"Is that why I'm here, then? Because I'm endangering your whole existence?"

Stefano flashed that hair-raising sinister smile again to her, making her felt uptight. Deep down, Kenna wondered was this how it felt when she did that to others?

"I think you already have that part figured out."

Kenna, in her thirty-one years of life, was rendered speechless. Seriously, did someone just splinter the reality and tossed her with this crazy fuck? Stefano was clearly out of his mind. This was as bad as when Tosca found out that Mario Cavaradossi was dead.

For fuck's sake could these ropes unbind any faster?

"I haven't, actually. Trouble me, then. I'm all ears." In truth, she could care less about what he had to say. Kenna was only buying herself more time with the ropes, though, that if she succeeded, and then what? Damn, she clearly needed to think this through.

"One of the majority," he finally confirmed. "But as you can clearly perceive from the vital piece of instrument in the center," he gestured his head towards the camera, although, his attention still fixated on the phonograph. "and the objects surrounding you, I happen to be an artist. A photographer, to be more precise," Stefano answered as he gingerly placed it back on the turntable. When the music played again, a content smile overtook his entire face.

"Oh, yes, thank you for the intelligent input, my dear. I mean, why? " Kenna insisted. "Why me?"

Stefano shrugged offhandedly, though Kenna could still clearly see the trace of his smile adorning his visage. It seemed he took her sarcasm in well-mannered.

" Perché no? "

"What was that?"

"Why not?" Stefano remarked again, his stare was as sharp as the devil's talon. Kenna scowled. Her mouth made an uncharacteristic grim line, her brows furrowed. It almost sounded as if he was doing this just for the hell of it.

"That's it? You took pictures of me just because you fucking wanted to?" Kenna asked again, somehow his ulterior motive didn't quite resonate well in her head.

"Because art, " Stefano corrected.

"Art..." Kenna contemplated the very meaning of the word in a way that she had never done before.

Her mind instantly went back to the Alice display she'd encountered at the City Hall. It was no doubt that that thing must have been his modus operandi , knowing Stefano was the only artist with a penchant for such malice she had come across thus far.

Was that supposed to be art? Kenna mused. Art knows no border, she knew of that. In the work of art, it wasn't about the moral or the idealist approach; art was art, there were no rules applied in it. And while she had to admit the intricate and effort of the visual presentation was a far cry from the run-of-the-mill kinds she had seen but was it fair to kill in the name of art?

"So, what? You're going to kill me because I look like an art to you?"

"You ask too many questions, don't you?" Stefano's face crossed her as a mélange of annoyance and unresolved displeasure. When he looked at her again this time from behind the curtains of his hair, she could clearly see murder building in his visible eye, even so, he proceeded to answer nonetheless.

"I wouldn't lie, eliminating you would mean one less of a parasite in this place, and then you happen to have the final puzzle piece that I need for my art. You shall be my artistic triumph," he explained glibly. "It's more of a prendere due piccioni con una fava situation for me, or as translated to your tongue to kill two birds with one stone. Oh, I've orchestrated all of this in my mind, and you, my dear, you will be perfect. All you need to do is die."

Without further ado, Stefano grabbed his Polaroid camera and her gun from the table. He strode right towards her, his steps impatient, his broad shoulders hunched and Kenna could feel death looming closer to her.

She had known fear all her life, but nothing compared to this. She was fucking terrified.

Alarm bells started to blare in her head and her hands began to wriggle forcefully than ever, Kenna rotated her wrists back and forth as her mind revving for anything that could nip whatever the heck he had in mind while still in the bud. If anything, half a loaf was better than nothing.

"Wait, wait, wait, before you put a bullet in my head and cut my limbs into pieces, there's one last thing I need to know," Kenna tried a more civilized approach, she could feel sweat starting to form on her forehead and pulse racing.

" What?! " he sounded almost as if he was barking. Clearly, Stefano was on the verge of his patient.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Come on, think, think, think. Her eyes on the prowl, she scouted around the room for something— anything, when her gaze landed on the massive painting in the corner. Going against her better judgment, she rolled out the dice. She thought was on a lucky streak anyway.

"Is that the authentic painting of Tristan and Isolde by Egusquiza?"

To her utmost surprise, Stefano froze in his place. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes although the gun was still drawn. If he was trying to hide his expression, it was clearly written all over his face.

Stefano paused. "How do you know that's a painting of Tristan and Isolde?"

Well, that was unexpected, Kenna mulled. Her hands never ceased wriggling out of the ropes. She needed a little more time.

"Isn't it obvious?" She tilted her head in the direction of the painting once more.

In the painting, which took place at the end of the opera, was a depiction of Isolde, half-naked, where she laid her body on top of Tristan's corpse. Her eyes were shut tight, though, her hand appeared to be holding his. Kenna declared that anyone who had watched the opera would cry their eyes out from seeing this. It was amazing how art could move people's hearts like this.

"Not according to many individuals, 'tis not," he countered, his eyes kept darting back and forth between her and the painting. "I've brought countless of souls into this room and not once one acknowledged it."

"It seems obvious to me," Kenna lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "Though I gotta admit, I never pegged you for the type to watch it," she digressed, again, feeling the ropes beginning to loosen.

"Well, I am a man of art. Of course, I enjoy every bit of these brilliant minds have bestowed upon us. Tristan and Isolde included."

"Yeah, yeah, I get ya. I'm not saying the play was shit— it's the opposite of shit, it's just… well, I never thought you'd like that. That's all."

Stefano dropped the gun from her face and cocked his head. He was staring at her as if she was some kind of an enigma.

"What kind of opera do you think I'd enjoy then?"

Kenna looked dubious, but answered. " The Ring of the Nibelung at the very least. Or some of Puccini's works."

"And how come does a woman like you know this?" The artist asked incredulously.

You'd have to thank MOBIUS for that, she thought.

MOBIUS might be prioritizing physical fitness and keen sense of analytical ability for their agents more than anything, but besides those, they also educated them with uncommon knowledge as a part of the training. Knowledge is power, they would say. These people were obsessed creating perfection, that they demanded the same from their people.

Back when Kenna was younger, she had used to wonder what good would these knowledge help her in the real world. Well, she kind of understood now.

"Does it matter? I happen to know, that's not enough for you?"

"Your... appearance deceive you," he admitted, his gaze trailing at her unkempt appearance and the cut on her lower lip. It was as if Stefano was judging a piece of an art or something.

"Oh, we're talking about exterior façade now? I thought you said I look like a work of art or some shit?"

"It's just…" Stefano cleared his throat, almost sounded forced. "It's quite unexpected from the likes of you."

Kenna stifled a relieving gasp when managed to wriggle her way free from the tie. She held onto the ropes tightly in her hand, making sure that they didn't fall lest Stefano found out of her aim. In the meantime, it was only a matter of getting rid of the artist from hindering her way and she would not hesitate. Oh no, she wouldn't.

"Well, that's me for you," Kenna muttered.

In this exact moment, Kenna took the courage to look at him— really looking. She was fearless, flashing her own sinister smile at him, her hand squeezing into a tight fist. The fire in her eyes was still there, and this time, he indeed saw it.

"And this."

As quick as the lightning, Kenna swung her fist to his face. Propelling him backward and collapsed on the ground. His hand covering the right side of his jaw. She thought she heard him groaning in pain, but that was the least worry she had in her mind right now.

Kenna rose to her feet, then, knocking his precious camera and equipments to the floor without even a glance back. She left her belongings and jacket on the table and bolted for the door as fast as she had ever run. It was the only choice she had.

And she kept on running, down the long corridor as fast as her feet could take her. Her long, raven colored hair flapping back and forth behind her, her heart was pounding, her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Kenna didn't know whether Stefano was following her or not or neither did she had the slightest bit where that door at the far end would lead her. But she wouldn't stop running. She wouldn't stop for anything.

Kenna charged at the door shoulder first and stepped into the light.

He could feel the ache all over his face, stinging. Stefano held his hand to his jaw and he saw his own blood coming from his nose, marring his own leather glove. The color blended perfectly with the crimson liquid.

When was the last time Stefano shed his own blood? He couldn't seem to recall when. It had been always someone else's that touched his pristine gloves, never his. This. This was highly unusual. The tables have turned on him. And somehow, he found himself grinning at the thought.

The woman had sucker-punched him well, he had to give credits where it was due. Not just that she was a force of nature, but then she revealed her aces on the table it left him dumbfounded.

Who was she? Stefano mused. He should have asked for her name.

His ears then picked up to the sound of thuds coming from the other side of the room. Stefano turned his head and smile, like a parent seeing his child after years of separation, at the sound of mechanical shrill and perpetual moans that as his eyes found her camera head. Upon seeing its maker, the thing made a run for him with her long three legs. Behind her, his Guardian followed, looming at least twice Stefano's height on his feet. It's multiple heads fixated on him only, her high-pitched giggles echoed through the air though as they drew near, Stefano sensed a strong sense of hostility at the sight of their maker on his knees, harmed.

"My darlings..." Stefano reached his hand to touch Obscura's head, he shifted his attention to the growing wrathful Guardian. "I'm fine, bene . The woman only did so little to harm me."

Still, his precious prized creations protested. He couldn't exactly blame them, though.

"No. Absolutely not, no chasing after her," the artist scolded, his tone stern. Stefano could feel their anger beginning to lessen. "Let her be… at least for a while."

He then tilted his head to the now wide, open doors. She was nowhere in sight despite Stefano swore he had just heard her running. He stared longingly at the corridor, his mind gyrating for the possible places she could end up to and he knew he needed to work fast. He needed to find her.

Stefano's attention blurred when he felt Obscura nudged his arm with her head. He chuckled.

"You feel that, don't you, my beautiful Obscura?" He beamed. "I've finally found her. I've finally found the one. "

While Obscura's mood shifted completely, Guardian merely cocked her heads in disbelief. He nodded his head to her and was replied with the sound of a cackle.

"At last."

Hello there, welcome back to another chapter of Heaven's On Fire! I'm sorry it took quite long for me to update, but life tends to be a drag and writer's block is just the cherry on top. I had to scrap this chapter like numerous of times before finally settled with this one. I sincerely hope this chapter worth the wait and I hope Stefano won't come out as OOC in here :((

If anyone's curious, the chapter title name came from a song by Bruno Nicolai with the same name that he composed for this Italian horror flick in the 70s called La Dama Rossa Uccide Sette Volte. And the song in the story is none other than Midnight, The Stars and You as you guys have probably heard in the movie, The Shining.

Lastly, I would like to thank my homegal, Madeline Axelle for her perpetual support and for always be there whenever I need someone whether to proofread my stories, having fun or when the chips were down. Girl, you are amazing, I love you! Next, I'd like to thank my baby bro for his advice and suggestions. Your knowledge for art is astounding, bro, like seriously, thank you for lending so many with me :)))

As usual, if you like it, leave a review, if you don't, leave a review. Cheers.